Nighttime Musings
by Catherine Chen
Summary: Some insight on what the Joker and Harley really think of each other. It started as a drabble so it's rather sweet and simple. Hope you like it. PLEASE REVIEW! Much love, Cat
1. He's Never Going to Love Me

I'm in a stream of consciousness mood. Actually, I'm always in a stream of consciousness mood. Anyway, this is my first attempt at Harley-Joker so be nice. PLEASE REVIEW!!! Much love, Cat

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Listened to One Sweet Love by Sara Bareilles while writing this.

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We have no place being together. Why do I continue to do this to myself, to subject myself to this torment? This is insane. I'm better than this. He's never going to love me. How many times will take it take for that to finally make it through this red and black shield I've erected against reality? No matter how many times I keep applying it, this makeup only hides the real me. It's not in me as it is in him. Without the accoutrements we aren't compatible. Without me trying, putting in the effort, putting in _all_ the effort, we wouldn't have any connection at all. He doesn't need me. He'd be just fine without me. Hasn't he said as much countless times before? But oh…when he smiles. When he smiles at me I forget it all, not that devilish clown grin, but that placating smile, the one he reserves just for me, when he's been bad. How could I stay mad at him when he's so adorable? He doesn't mean to hurt me…he probably doesn't know that he does it half the time that he does. I'm just too sensitive. I've built up all of these illusions in my head so it's no wonder when he doesn't live up to them I'm disappointed. That isn't his fault. He's only a man. _My man_. Lord, how I love him.

"Puddin'?" she whispered tentatively, feeling his arm wrap around her waist. He was still asleep, unconsciously cuddling up to her. She suppressed a shiver at the feel of his smooth, cool skin of his face pressed against her shoulder. He would probably hit her in the morning, accuse her of trying to insinuate herself where she didn't belong, trick him somehow. She'd learned to stop arguing with him about it. It didn't matter, though. She'd never willingly distance herself from him. It was worth the pain to have him hold her now, to know despite whatever he might tell her that he truly did want her near to him.

Very gently, so as not to wake him, she placed her hand over his where it was draped over her stomach.


	2. It Felt Right

You asked for it so finally, _finally_ I have delivered. I never intended this to be more than a one-shot, but what can I say? I got inspired. I do hope you like it. Who knows, I might write another chapter or two if I get a good response.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat

xxxxx

He choked down the angry words his frustrated mind supplied as he furiously crumpled up another plan and tossed it over his shoulder. Agitated, he started to pace. _Maybe if I…_ "Harley! HARLEY!"

He crossed to the railing overlooking the lower level. There she was, playing with her pets. Mangy, pathetic creatures. A couple of belly rubs and they were putty in her hands. Some ferocious wild animals they proved to be. It wasn't even as if they were dogs. They were hyenas for crying out loud… "HARLEY!"

She jumped, then turned, her mouth widening into a smile and her eyes lighting up as she looked up at him. "Yes, Mr. J?"

Shaking off the warm feeling that tried to creep into his chest when he stared at that grin too long, he resumed barking at her. "I need you to go to the warehouse and do some inventory. How am I supposed to design a decent plan when I don't know what I have to work with?"

xxxxx

_It felt right._ It felt right to have her curled up against his side, her breathing and her body soft and warm as the anxiety of the still, tranquil night descended once more. He hated the calm, the silence. He cursed the demons that emerged from the shadows to taunt him, gnawing at the edges of his psyche. He drove them back with forced laughter and merriment; in the midst of the frenzied chaos they had no power. In the middle of the might, when he was defenseless, when he was with _her_, that was when they came out to play. It was a game he had never learned the rules to. It was a game with stakes that were too high…a game he could not win.

She tried to snuggle up closer, her arm stretching over his chest, embracing him. He gently lifted it and placed it, elbow bent, beside her so that her hand rested beside her cheek. He had never meant for her, or anyone else for that matter, to get this close to him, literally or figuratively. But she had. Somehow, while he'd been otherwise occupied, she had permeated every aspect of his life and snuck her way into that space in his chest where science, nature, logic insisted that a heart resided.

He'd underestimated her. The moment she'd walked into Arkham he'd read her as an easy mark. Smart enough to be useful to him but weak enough to manipulate. While he could still manipulate her, he had found that even under his influence she had her own brand of strength that couldn't be stamped out of her. It was in the neverending supply of cheer, in her unique brand of honor, in her relentless defiance. _Or was it that he no longer wanted to manipulate her? _

He shook off the uncomfortable thought and ignoring his reservations, gently draped his arm over her waist and pulled her close, tucking her into his body.


End file.
